Those Who Wish to Sing Always Find a Song
by SincerelyChic
Summary: Hetalia Singing AU. Lovino loves to sing but it’s only for himself. Till a certain spaniard coaxes him to share his gift with the world. Spanaro with multiple ships {As of 4/30/19 on HIATUS}
1. Lovino and Felincio- Let Me Sing

**Hello readers, and welcome to my take at a Hetalia human music AU. This fic is mostly a bunch of song fics strung together, but don't worry they do correspond in a way and there is an actual plot :)**

 **I will say that the first few chapters maybe slow and short but I promise they'll improve farther along the story.**

 **I also want to point out this story will have lot of POV swaps, due to how many characters and their stories. You can always tell who the main focus is going to be by the title as well as an idea of what song/ issue they're going to encounter.**

 **Now without farther edue...**

Lovino and Felincio- Let Me Sing

 _"Lasciatemi cantare_

 _Con la chitarra in mano_

 _Lasciatemi cantare_

 _Sono l'italiano"_

 _"Buongiorno Italia gli spaghetti al dente_

 _E un partigiano come Presidente_

 _Con l'autoradio sempre nella mano destra_

 _E un canarino sopra la finestra"_

 _"Buongiorno Italia con I tuoi artisti_

 _Con troppa America sui manifesti_

 _Con le canzoni con amore_

 _Con il cuore_

 _Con piu' donne sempre, meno suore"_

 _"Buongiorno Italia_

 _Buongiorno Maria_

 _Con gli occhi pieni di malinconia_

 _Buongiorno Dio_

 _Lo sai che ci sono anch'io"_

 _"Las-"_

 _"Frachello!"_

Lovino's hand stopped mid strum of his guitar. He sat on the porch hunched over enjoying a peaceful afternoon, when along comes his extremely loud and equally annoying little brother to kill the mood. Geez, he always had a habit of showing up at the most inconvenient times. Lovino lifted his gaze slightly to see Felincio came running up the walkway with a bright smile on his dopey face. He stopped just short of Lovino who has stopped strumming, instead looking to his brother in shock. He rarely ever saw him run let alone with such vigilance. After a moment to catch his breath Felincio presented Lovino a newspaper in his shaking hand as he spoke between wheezing breaths.

"Look what I found while out in town!"

Felincio pushed the paper farther into his brothers face, who had to snatch it out of his fingers and hold it out to read it properly.

' _Diament Studios_ announces the confirmation of their second regional singing competition, sponsored by UTV Network and _Diament Records_. Owner and musician Roderich Edelstein along with his panel of esteemed judges wish to welcome contesters to open auditions being held at _XYZ Radio_ station.'

Lovino tossed the paper to the side and plucked at his guitar strings. Ignoring the overly joyous look on his brothers face. "So, what do you think?"

"I think it's a stupid waste of time, that's what I think."

"What?! Don't you think it would be fun to sing on a stage with a bunch of other people in front of a crowd?"

"If that's what you want, why not sign up for the church choir." The younger of the two continued on excitedly, prone to the others crude remarks.

"It says here that it's a contest, and whoever wins get to go on and be a professional singer, with a record label, and go on tours to sing around the world! Oh, I'd just love to travel the world and sing for a bunch of cheering fans! Of course, if I did you and Grandpa could come and visit me and maybe we could all travel and sing together! Oh that reminds me, I better go ask Grandpa if he can take us to the auditions?"

And with that the little Italian skipped inside his heart aflutter. Once he was gone Lovino looked to the discarded paper. He gave a snort and turned back to strumming his guitar lazily plucking to a slow melody.

 _"Lasciatemi cantare_

 _Con la chitarra in mano_

 _Lasciatemi cantare_

 _Una canzone piano piano_

 _Lasciatemi cantare_

 _Perche' ne sono fiero_

 _Sono un italiano_

 _Un italiano vero"_

 _"Lasciatemi cantare"_

"So what do you think? Can we go Grandpa, please, please can we go?!"

Felincio pleaded after relating his findings from earlier to his grandfather. Felincio and Lovino's Grandpa was a large man, with a broad chest and shoulders. His arms were bulging with muscles. Wavy brown locks hung over his eyes and stubble on his face. His amber eyes held a childlike twinkle to them. The younger male jumped up and down, his auburn hair with that one peculiar curl bouncing excitedly. The older man laughed deeply.

"Why of course Feli! I think it would be a marvelous opportunity, we owe it to the community to share our gifts. After all the Vargas household has always been fortunate in our abundance of talented singers. I remember when I used to sing on stage myself."

"No need to dig up ancient history you old geezer." Lovino lent against the kitchen doorframe with his arms crossed and scraping his foot absently on the floor. But both his brother and grandfather appeared to not have heard him.

"Ve~really?! Grandpa you never mentioned that you used to sing in a band!"

Roma brought his hand to rest on his chin as though he was lost in thought. Remembering fond memories. "We never did anything too upscale. Mostly we would perform locally or at small events. There were four of us. We were inseparable and the best of friends...as least when we weren't fighting. I haven't heard from the other members in years... Anyway, I thinks it's a fantastic idea!"

"You hear that Lovino? We can go to the auditions for the contest. Then we could get to perform on stage just like Grandpa and his band. Wouldn't that be great!"

"What do you mean we?" Lovino's brows furrowed even deeper as he glared from across the room. Felincio's smile fell, even the curl seemed to sag atop his head.

"Ve? What do you mean? Why won't you audition with me? You have a nice singing voice as well."

"Because it's stupid and only complete morons would go."

"That's not true, lots of people are going to be there. Plus I'll be there to so you won't have to do it alone."

"My point exactly. You go wastes your time but count me out."

The other young mans shoulders slumped as his eyes went downcast. Lovino turned his glare back to the tile by his feet. He realized how pitiful his excuses sounded and yeah, he did feel kinda bad for calling his brother an idiot. But he couldn't take part in the auditions. Couldn't bring himself onto that stage, and couldn't explain the reason that he didn't want to audition was because of his brother. As childish as it sounded that was Lovino's biggest reason. Sure he could go to the auditions if it was just him. But if Felincio was going, there'd be no point. After hearing his brother sing there would be no point of his competing. He knew this, he'd heard his brother sing. Not only that, but everyone seemed to prefer his simpleminded-hair-brained-idiot-brother over him. After all he was the "grumpy one" the "the moody one " the "the angry brother". No matter what the situation, Felincio was always the favorite. Even to their Grandpa, though he would never admit it. That's why Lovino didn't want to go, it would just be another chance to compare him against his perfect brother. So really what was the point? Lovino was pulled out of his self deprecation by Grandpa Roma's stern voice.

"Lovino, if you don't want to partake in the auditions that's fine, but at least come to support you brother. You know it would mean a lot to him."

Felincio fidelity wrung his hands together and dug his toe in circles on the floor. He glanced sideways at his brother afraid that direct eye contact might set him off into another yelling fit. When Lovino still hadn't answered their grandfather, he chanced a shy smile and a quiet whisper.

"Please, Lovino?"

For all the times that Lovino felt inferior to his brother, all the times he got chewed out for trifle things while Felincio got by easy, and all the irritation he could bring upon him...Lovino knew that most of the time he didn't do it intentionally. And he still loved his brother. Even though he may call him an idiot, or yell at him, and occasionally make him cry. He really did love his brother and no sibling rivalry was going to change that. If this audition was really important to him, then of course Lovino would go. He would bite back his childish prattling and self loathing to support him one-thousand percent. He closed his eyes still looking off to the side,

feigned annoyance and took a deep sigh.

"Fine. I'll go."

 **That's it for the first chapter. Hope you liked it.**

 **English lyrics to Lasciatemi Cantare below.**

 _Let me sing_

 _With the guitar in hand_

 _Let me sing_

 _I am the Italian_

 _Hello Italy, the spaghetti_

 _"al dente"_

 _And a partisan as president_

 _With the car radio always in the right hand_

 _And a canary above the window_

 _Good morning Italy with your artists_

 _With too much America on the posters_

 _With the songs, with love_

 _With the heart_

 _With more women, always less nuns_

 _Good morning Italy_

 _Good morning Maria_

 _With the eyes full of melancholy_

 _Good morning God_

 _You know that I am here too_

 _Let me sing_

 _With the guitar in hand_

 _Let me sing_

 _A song slowly, softly_

 _Let me sing_

 _Because I am proud_

 _I am an Italian_

 _A real Italian_


	2. Alfred and Mathew-Rising Up

Alfred and Mathew-Rising Up

The morning started out like any other. Alfred came running down the stairs two at a time while pulling his jacket on and stumbling with his shoes. He had overslept again. After the alarm had went off he simply rolled over and fell back asleep for another half hour and now he was going to be late. In the kitchen he could hear Mathew preparing their breakfast. He was already dressed for work and humming along to the radio as he flipped pancakes. Then he caught sight of his brother.

"Good morning. I was beginning to wonder if you were ever getting out of bed."

"Why didn't you come and wake me sooner?"

"You're not in high school anymore Al, you should be able to get yourself out of bed without me or mom coming to check on you."

Alfred finished pulling on his other shoe and straightened up from the kitchen doorway. His face broke into a grin as he pointed his finger mockingly.

"Yeah, well at least mom didn't look as much like a housewife in that apron." Alfred said drawing attention to the pink frilly apron his brother had wrapped around his waist.

"And here I went ahead and made you breakfast too."

Waiting on the table where Alfred sat was a plate with bacon, eggs, and sausage. Along with a cup of coffee and stack of toast.

"Man I take back anything I ever said about you."

"That's what I thought."

Alfred sat down and ate his breakfast, while Mathew finished piling a stack of pancakes onto his own plate. They both listened to the radio as they ate.

 _"Hey Radio XYZ, do you got what it takes to sing live on stage? Well here's your chance to find out! Diament Studio is hosting their second regional singing contest and live concert. The winner gets their own record label and tour. So if your ready to take your singing out of the shower and onto the stage come audition this week at Diament Studios!"_

"Mattie did you here that?! Oh, we so gotta go and try out! Just think, we could sing on a stage, have a crowd of cheering fans, and have our own record label! Come' on it'll be awesome!"

"Not trying to be a kill joy but you know it's a contest right? You'd have to compete against others to win, and have you thought about how you would even get there? You don't drive remember. Not to mention you would have to get off work to-"

"Aww I know all that! The auditions are all next week right, so you could drive us on our next day off. I'll talk to Lisa about getting time off if we pass auditions-though I doubt it will be very hard you know how much she loves me. Easy peasy."

"You got this all mapped out huh?"

"All I'm saying is that we at least check it out. Come on man, you can't get anywhere in life if you don't take chances."

Mathew looked at his brother wearily. He was leaning across the table, dangerously close to getting bacon grease on his shirt, pressing his lips in a trembling pout and furrowing his brow into his notorious puppy dog pout. Mathew could tell that his mind was determined about this audition and that there was no real way of getting out of it. He took a sip from his coffee mug and feigned to ponder the notion before sighing in relent.

"Alright. I'll drive you to auditions on our next day off."

"Yeah! Thanks Mattie you're the best!"

Fifteen minutes later they were both dressed for work and climbing into Mathew's Chevy Monte Carlo. Matt took his place in the driver seat, revving the engine to life, and Alfred cranked up the AC and tuned the radio from the passengers seat. Now, some might think it's strange that the younger of the two got his license first and is the one in charge of their commute to work, but it's not due to Al's lack of trying. He had taken -and failed- his test enough times that it was reaching the tweens. He'd studied hard to get his permit, but the physical test was just hard to pass. Matt tried giving him pointers once but they just proved more stressful and pressurizing. Now Mathew stuck to operating the transportation for them both. Alfred couldn't complain, it was far better then his old alternative. He used to cycle to work in the weather and up hill, boy was he appreciative. Mathew didn't mind either, they worked at the same place and it was thanks to his brother that he got the job. They'd both moved into the apartment building they were at now to attend the Community College, and rather than share a dorm with other students, they worked out a payment plan between them and their parents. Alfred had already been working for nearly two years after graduating high school, while Mathew was finding acquiring a job to be difficult. After deciding to attend the same college, Alfred made a point to put in a good word and get Matt hired at the same place. Now here they were, living co-independently. The younger of the two driving and cooking meals, while the older reminding him to relax once in a while and dragging him to social events.

Buckled and surfing the stations, Alfred was still buzzing from the radio broadcast earlier. They would really have a chance to perform live on stage for the chance at a record deal! Well, not till passing the auditions first. He was so pumped his kept drumming his fingers on the dash.

"This is gonna be totally sweet! Just think what we could do with our own record deal! I need to pick what song to use for the auditions. What song do you have in mind Mattie?"

"I'm not going."

"Whatdoya' mean you're not going?! You said you where going on our next day off!"

"I said I'd take you to audition, never that I was going to try out."

"No way bro, you're going to audition and that's final."

"Al, you can't just decide for other people. Besides, I'm more comfortable making the music then singing it. You on the other hand, can be heard putting on your own contact from the shower."

Alfred didn't bite at the playful jab. He was too preoccupied twisting the dial on the radio to any station that wasn't playing an ad. Finally he found a classic rock station. The instrumental intro started and they both recognized it. Mathew gripped the steering wheel while Alfred's eyes ignite with adrenaline. He turns to look at his twin with that one hundred watts smile.

"No." Mathew strains his voice with every amount of sternness he can muster but it's no use, he's already lost.

"Yeees! Come on Mattie! You gotta! Please?!" Alfred cracks up the stereo even louder. Enough that when Mathew pulled up to the stop light the passengers in car next to them glanced over. But right now they were the least of his worries. Besides he was sure that if any pedestrians passing weren't throwing him dirty looks for his stereo volume they were certainly gawking at the mass of head bobbing and flailing arms in his passenger seat. Alfred's ecstatic arms drumming and hair whipping, causing the idle vehicle to shake. Then as the music cuts, he jerked his head up and turned to face his brother.

 _"Risin' up, back on the street_

 _Did my time, took my chances_

 _Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet_

 _Just a man and his will to survive"_

Alfred shot his left arm the width of the dashboard then brought it back into a fist clutched to his chest.

 _"So many times, it happens too fast_

 _You trade your passion for glory"_

He held up his index finger while shouldering his brother over the console, jabbed a thumb toward the back seat, then finished by pumping his fist triumphantly while bobbing his head.

 _"Don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past_

 _You must fight just to keep them alive"_

Alfred brought his right hand upward pointing at both of his eyes with his index and middle finger. He then used both arms to mimic a boxing stance-

 _"It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight"_

then striking his arm out towards the windshield and horizon. He turned his hand in a circular motion pointing upward.

 _"Risin' up to the challenge of our rival"_

He squared his shoulders, raising both hands, and swaying side to side. Then pointing to his eyes again and turning to look at his brother.

 _"And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night_

 _And he's watchin' us all with the eye of the tiger"_

"Come on Mattie! Join in!" He cried to his otherwise unfazed twin. The light had changed back to green and he was checking his lanes before pulling up. He couldn't however help the slight shake of his head and quiet sigh as he saw the others pleading expression out his peripheral vision. There was never any fighting what was about to come, he knew this deep down, but he would at least keep the enthusiasm to a minimum lest they be late to work due to a driving ticket. Mathew began to sing the next verse, resulting in an exultant cry from the other as he continued to dance animatedly.

 _"Face to face, out in the heat_

 _Hangin' tough, stayin' hungry_

 _They stack the odds 'till we take to the street_

 _For the kill with the skill to survive"_

Progressively they both bobbed, swayed, gestured, and made facial expressions throughout their voyage.

 _"It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight_

 _Risin' up to the challenge of our rival_

 _And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night_

 _And he's watchin' us all with the eye of the tiger"_

They continued even as they pulled into the parking lot. Not caring about any inlookers or passerby's that saw them. Both unfastened their restraints and turned to face one another. Each a mirror version of the others actions, trying to break the others concentration. But neither relenting.

 _"Risin' up, straight to the top_

 _Had the guts, got the glory_

 _Went the distance, now I'm not gonna stop_

 _Just a man and his will to survive_

 _It's the eye of the tiger, it's the dream of the fight_

 _Risin' up to the challenge of our rival_

 _And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night_

 _And he's watchin' us all with the eye_

 _...of the tiger"_

The melody faded and in its absence an ad for he local discount store or weather report aired, but neither occupant was paying attention. They both smiled ridiculously gitty grins and heaved to catch their breaths after the long ending note. Alfred punched his brother playfully in the shoulder and bursted out with laughter.

"Ya see, what'd I tell ya?! We're gonna kill it at the auditions! Just wait and see."

Mathew took in Alfred's reassured smile, like he could see into the future and know what adventure awaited them. He chucked to himself for getting pulled into yet another of his brother schemes. But really what else was there to do. With Alfred there never was any chance of fighting it.

"We sure are."

 **Hope you enjoyed!**

 **The song was Eye of the Tiger by Survivor**

 **and if you listened and danced along with Alfred then you're an awesome goofball.**

 **I will say that Al's dance moves where adapted by my own. I basically described what I look like when I sing along in the car. ;P**

 **Until next time~**


	3. Roderich- Thank You for the Music

**Hello my lovely readers, after this chapter I'll be incorporating more languages but since I'm only an (American) English speaker myself all the translations I'll be using I get from online.**

 **I know, 'boo google translate!'**

 **If you are fluent in another language and see a mistake in my grammar please pm me so I can fix it. I appreciate it.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia nor any of the music. All rights to their respective owners**.

Roderich-Thank You for the Music

The media flys were already buzzing outside the studio building. There broadcast cars parked around the front building and cameras flashing and zooming in everywhere. The Austrian inside didn't like it. He had meant for the studio to be a place of solitude, where he could escape from the hassles of everyday life and engross himself in music. _Diament Studios_ was the local music studio branch to _Diament Records_ and owned by musician and composer, Roderich Edelstein.

It was at _Diament_ recording studio that the renounced musical prodigy sat beholding a empty auditorium. It's domed roof, with rows and rows of velvet covered seats, balconies that wrap around the entire auditorium, a polished stage framed by crimson curtains and a lower orchestra area. He sat atop the stage accompanied by a lone grand piano. No one was in the audience but still he played. He played for the sheer pleasure of it. It was when he played that he truly felt alive. Then the far door opened and his assistant walked in. The pianist finished his piece to a break before turning to address the other. Really, he know how much he hated being interrupted.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Sorry to disturb you sir, but the news anchors are here. They're wondering if you'll have time for an interview? Also two of your guests cars have just pulled in should I tell them you'll be awhile?"

"That won't be necessary. Tell the news crew I'll be with them as soon as possible and see my guests to the regular room. I'll be along shortly."

"Yes sir."

With that his assistant left and the musician was alone once more. Though he didn't feel lonely. How could he when he was in pure bliss. On stage with his piano and sheet music, what more could he need? However there were times, that' he'd never admit, in the late hours of the night or early before dawn when he did feel lonesome. What good was an empire if there was no one to share it with?

No, he wouldn't think of that, instead he'd just focus on his music. It never disappointed him. He set his sheet music of Mozart's 12th aside and instead stated to play by memory. It was a New Age music, something he didn't think he'd like. But in the end it was still just as luscious and heartfelt as his usual motif. His fingers swept across the keyboard and he began to sing.

 _"I'm nothing special, in fact I'm a bit of a bore_

 _If I tell a joke, you've probably heard it before_

 _But I have a talent, a wonderful thing_

 _Cause everyone listens when I start to sing"_

Having been a long standing member of the media aristocracy, he had grown up on a stage before regal audiences and adoring fans alike. Having performed in every venue from sold out performance at the _Graz Opera house, the Grossess Festispielhas_ , and the music festival in _Grafenegg_.

 _"I'm so grateful and proud_

 _All I want is to sing it out loud_

 _Thank you for the music, the songs I'm singing_

 _Thanks for all the joy they're bringing"_

To him performing wasn't just about putting on a show for the higher class or immersing in the culture for a day, it was connecting with others through music.

 _"Who can live without it, I ask in all honesty_

 _What would life be?_

 _Without a song or a dance what are we?"_

He liked to think that music held a embedded power, a type of magic. It could touch the hearts of people from any race, religion, sexuality, or ethnicity. It was truly a universal language.

 _"So I say thank you for the music_

 _For giving it to me"_

No matter where you go in the world there is music, and it harnesses the essence of the people around.

 _"Mother says I was a dancer before I could walk_

 _She says I began to sing long before I could talk"_

He proved to be an abundant talent with not only a sultry voice but also capable of play several instruments majestically. His fame and wealth grew as his musical empire stretched and became an agency for talent.

 _"But I've often wondered, how did it all start?_

 _Who found out that nothing can capture a heart_

 _Like a melody can?"_

You don't need to understand the words of a love song to hear its emotions. Or that of a slow song to feel it's solace. The young Austrian realized this, and reviled at the thought of sharing his gifts with the world.

 _"Well, whoever it was, I'm a fan_

 _So I say_

 _Thank you for the music, the songs I'm singing_

 _Thanks for all the joy they're bringing"_

It was sad to recall how he'd once forgot this joy that music brought him. That there was a time when we was so caught up in his fame and building a legacy that he didn't have time to enjoy music. That was before someone reminded him, and gave him back that which was missing.

 _"Who can live without it, I ask in all honesty_

 _What would life be?_

 _Without a song or a dance what are we?_

 _So I say thank you for the music_

 _For giving it to me"_

Outside a man in a tweed suit and tie climbed out of his car. He adjusted his collar and tugged at the cuffs of his sleeves. His impossible untidy hair refused to lay flat, defying the moose he used to plaster it to the point it looked wet and oily. He slicked back a loose strand before crossing the threshold of the main entrance. His shoes were polished, trousers pressed and clean, and he carried a thin leather briefcase. His face freshly shaven and a hint of cologne. Everything about him was posh and refined, except for a pair of extremely bushes eyebrows that practically launched from his forehead. Arthur Kirkland was an ambassador for UTV, the local media network that specializes in broadcasting international programs. Working alongside indie move studios and live broadcasting companies that otherwise wouldn't air. UTV's goal has always been to bring new and enticing things to the states and help these lesser known media into the light. Arthur had worked for the media network over fifteen years, and after establishing his name early in his career, had since risen in the ranks to be the respectable representative he was today. Granted his job offered copious perks, such as world travel and the opportunity to meet with various people in the social media community, but what Arthur was fond of the most was the simplicity of it. He would merely be assigned the client with whom the network wished to embark business, arrange to meet with them, discuss the potential aspects of future partnership and what benefits could be acquired, pitch to them the fundamentals and ground rule that would be instilled between the parent company, then negotiate the details. Really all he did was discuss and in some cases plan how the collaboration would work. He never had to actually part take in the manual labor or any of the messy work. No, he only representative what the network had to offer, pitch his sales bit, and shake hands while thanking the officials for their time. Today was a business meeting like any other over the specifications for a live broadcast hosted by a local record studio. The difference being that there was no pitch, just negotiating with the directors in charge, and that Arthur himself had history working with this particular client before. Over a year ago he had been assigned to meet with the studio owner himself to discuss an inside story on the establishment. The whole studio seemed to appear overnight. Here was this brand new record label, owned and operated by a seemingly young Austrian composer, who seemed to the newest sensation sweeping the region. In no time the lad was running his own musical empire and proving himself a orchestral prodigy. With such a awe inspiring story so close to home it's no wonder that the media network, whose primary goal was to display something new and diverse to its viewers, wouldn't jump at the bit. Arthur had arranged a sit down with the posh aristocratic young man where in deciding upon their first broadcast. This time however he was no stranger to luxurious studio or its vast space. He approached the front desk and stated his business with the secretary, receiving a badge and directions to the meeting floor number. He walked to the elevator shaft, stepping inside the box and glanced at his watch. He'd be right on time.

" _Excusez-moi_ , hold that door!"

From down the hall another man appeared. He wore loose dress pants and an open white jacket to reveal a pastel colored shirt. His hair was just beyond shoulder length and there was stubble on his chin. His eyes where a pale blue with a mischievous twinkle and crows feet on either side. Even though he sounded rushed he walked with a relaxed air and proud stride. He spoke with an unmistakable French accent, this was none other than XYZ Radio's talk host Francis Bonnefoy. A flamboyant flirt who spoke on the air delivering the daily news, celebrity gossip, and occasional personal advise to XYZ listeners. The man was an idol adored by his fans on set. However off the mic he was a different person all together, Arthur knew this first hand and it still set a churning in his stomach. I wasn't his place to scrutinize what anyone did in their down time, so this he tried best to ignore. Really he'd distance himself from the other man as much as possible, but fate seemed to enjoy tormenting him in the persona of Francis Bonnefoy. Upon reaching the elevator he stepped inside and stood adjacent to Arthur. Since these two were already well aquatinted and had established a friendship of sorts one might think they'd greet each other merrily like old friends. Retrospectively, one would be wrong, rather than a friendly atmosphere the box was instantly filled with an almost hostile buzzing tension. Arthur felt it immediately and tried with all his will not to acknowledge it, keeping his gaze fixed on the metal doors. Pretending the other mans nonexistence. Francis being the even provoking fellow was not going to go unnoticed. The blonde cleared his throat and addressed the other acutely.

"Not even going to greet me with a gracious 'good morning' _mon pettit_?"

"Good morning." Arthur answered curtly without taking his eyes off the metal doors.

"You didn't even look at me. Really, now I thought you were a gentleman." he replied with a faux of disapproval. To which Arthur turned in place stiffly, jaw slacked, and eyes hardened to face the Frenchman. When he spoke, it was with an airiness.

"Good morning." he stated once again then turned back to the doors.

The pull of the elevator as it began its assent was minuet and accompanied by the soft chine as they passed other floors. The host let out a sigh, waving his arms and stepped from his side of the cube into Arthur's personal space. Close enough he felt the brush of fabric across his arm and breathed a wave of too familiar cologne. Right now he just needed to stay calm. As long as he didn't respond the other party would lose interest. Or so he thought.

Arthur felt the presence of the other man as he snaked his arm atop his shoulder and leaned in so that his breath tickled the rim of Arthur's ear.

"Perhaps a less formal greeting, say a kiss?"

"Shove it Frog!" The Englishman shrugged him off forcefully.

Of course he had to run into this man, of all people! Whatever, he wasn't going to let the other get the best of him this time. No sir, he was going to remain cool and collected, he was here on business after all. The Englishman adjusted his collar and continued to stare forward ignoring the other individual. Three floors chined and they were halfway there, he could make it.

"You seem particularly bristled today _sourcil_ , having another morning hangover?"

His face scrunched up, bushy brows knitted together, and underneath green eyes where ignited with irritation.

Why was it taking so long to arrive at the correct floor?!

Finally the elevator chimed and the doors drew open, Arther lurched himself out to get away and welcoming any space between the other man and himself. He stalked down the hall to the designated meeting room and pulled past the doors. There was no one inside but a small table set for six and a small candy dish at the center. Arthur took a deep breath flattened it the wrinkles on his suit, slightly vexed by the absence of their host and even more infuriated that he would be spending even more time with that insufferable French frog. He scoured the room for and potential escape routes and or weapons as his accomplice entered behind him. He also made it a point to position his chair as far away from the other man as possible. He hoped that their Austrian partner would be along shortly, he didn't fancy spending anymore time with his French cohort in an enclosed room. After setting his briefcase on the table, Arthur began shuffling through the paperwork, lining everything in order and giving the materials in front of him his utmost attention. From his seat along side the Englishmen, Francis watched slightly slouched and his chin resting on intertwined hands.

"Ah, Arthur you're always so tense before closing a deal. You need to learn to relax mon amie."

"I will be relaxed as soon as this whole thing is over and I can be away from you." he spewed venomously.

"You don't really mean that."

The Frenchmen's voice dropped to a whisper, his voice husky and smooth. As he rose out of his seat and placed his hands on either of the others shoulders. He lent forward his nose just above the juncture of Arthur's neck, breath tickling against the skin.

"As I recall you tend to enjoy my company, in fact I say you're far more loose when we are together."

Arthur's skin pricked all over, the hairs on his neck stood on end, and he felt the heat rise in his face as a vane popped in his neck.

"Why don't you allow me to release some of the tension?"

This was not the time or the place for the Frenchmen's shenanigans and he had had quit enough. Arthur's briefcase was in his hand once more and plummeting towards the others vital regions. A pained moan rang throughout the room the same time as a knock at the door. Roderick pushed aside the door and saw Arthur clutching his briefcase in a tight fist as Francis limped away clutching at his upper thigh.

"Excuse the intrusion, I hope I'm not interrupting anything?" The musicians eyes narrowed behind wire glasses and his ever present scowl was plastered on his face.

Arthur set his briefcase back down and smoothed out the creases of his suit.

"Nice of you to finally join us."

"Well some of us have a studio to run as well as a record label to manage, not to mention a room full of press anxiously awaiting to interview-"

"Yes, yes that's enough, we haven't got all day!" The Englishman motioned towards one of the empty chairs exasperatedly. The brunette sighed crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair.

"I see the years have done nothing for you, your professional tact could still use some work."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I agree." Came Francis raspy voice. He sounded as though he'd had the wind knocked out of him. "Seriously sourcils do you treat all your partners so rudely?"

"I'm not being rude," the Englishman protests, "I'm just trying to get the meeting under control. Just because we're all well acquainted with one another does not allow for our business meeting to get run away with nostalgia or gossip like a bunch of midwives at a book club. I take precision in my work and I'll hold to it no matter who the business partners."

The blonde was once again seated, as he lent forward in his chair his eyes shone with that mischievous twinkle once more. "I wasn't referring to 'business' partners I meant under the shee-"

"Enough, can we kindly get back on subject please. For someone who preaches about precision you sure ramble off topic a lot. I have another meeting that I don't want to be late for."

"That's rich considering you were the one who was late to begin with." Arthur grumbled then turned his attention to the papers laid out.

"Right, we've been called here to discuss and finalize the details for this concert that is to take place. Naturally I wouldn't be so involved in such an event, but due to our good relations and my accepting your invitation to be a judge, I only see it fit to lend a hand in all the planning. Once again I thank you for having me and for your support with UTV."

The musician waved it off. "Not at all. After Diament's last interview with the press our name has became more popular with the general public. We sent out more talent scouts and were even approached by some musicians. We weren't able to take more than a few clientele on due to how small our studio was. Since then we've branched out farther and the success of our music has been appeasing."

"How is you latest contract?" The Frenchman inquired. "I hear his music was ranked first in popular charts recently?"

The brunet crinkled his nose and messaged the furrow between his brows. Closing his eyes behind his glasses as though indulged in a vexatious memory and spoke with a haughty tone.

"It's been one enormous stroke to his ego since. Honestly he's becoming quite insufferable. He was supposed to meet here, but a last minute stop was validated and his tour extended. He won't be back till the weekend preceding auditions."

Roderich released a heavy sigh and relaxed his posture once more. "As I was saying, since the last auditions were such a success, I decided to hold them again. This time using the media's influence to spread the word and draw in more candidates."

Francis drew himself up and massages his chin as though in deep consideration. "It was a strategic business ploy to collaborate with not only the local newspaper, media, and radio station. The more advertisement the better. But why, may I ask, the live concert. Surely the advertisement would be plenty to increase your sales quota, you are risking an awful lot on expenses for a single live production?"

"This isn't about just boosting sales, publicity, or finding musicians. It's to share music with the community. To uncover something new. It is Diaments' cause to discover the extraordinary in the mundane."

" _Oui_ , the "diamond in the rough", he waved his hand impatiently, "I've read your plaque outside. But why the concert?"

Roderich was silent for a moment. His face stoic but from behind his glasses his eyes softened and his lips quirked into what could be the beginning of a small smile. His voice traveled like a whisper, lacking its normal bite.

"Something as wonderful as music should be shared. And it's not about just finding the studios next talent, it's about these artists finding themselves."

Francis released a sigh and shook his head. "I give up trying to understand anything you die-hards say. But you've asked for my services so how can I refuse? The ratings are sure to sky rocket with my loyal fan base tuning in."

Arthur narrowed his gaze. "This isn't another one of your talk shows for you go chattering nonstop. You'll just give a brief critique on the performers, that's it."

"It means so much to me that you listen to my shows." He ran a hand through his slightly wavy locks. "But fret not, I will keep my commentary short. Don't worry your greasy haired head. After all, I find you can say so much in only a few words."

"Moving on." Roderich turned to Arthur. "Speaking of media coverage, I presume camera crews will be congesting my recording studio and offices like last time?"

"Yes, they will require all access to the studio and grounds. However we will be limiting the number of crewmen and they will be given set hours to collect their footage. UTV realizes that this is a place of business and that you can't have camera crews bustling about all hours. We'll be sure to prevent another incident like last time." Both men's faces down cast at the end.

"I surely hope so." The brunette readjusted his glasses but his hand did little to conceal the blush that rose in his cheeks or the twitch of his brow at the memory.

"Also all the footage will be monitored by UTV broadcasting staff and before screening. We'll also holding rights to all documentation; including private interviews, rehearsal footage, as well as broadcasting the concert live. Of course the paperwork for the video release of the contesters is right here and will need to be filled out and processed before any of this can take effect."

"Will we be filmed as well?" The Frenchmen inquired.

"Yes, I'm afraid. But like I said they will be time frames for the reporters and cameramen to follow. The interviewers won't be able to show up at their leisure. And this is strictly on site filming, they're not to be showing up at contesters residence or film them out in public."

"Very good. Now I have something to ask of you in regards to the judging. Originally it was stated that there would just be judging the main concert, but due to the abundance of contesters that have already had contact with my assistant and the not doubt more that will flock in to the Radio Station, I'd like for the two of you to overlook the auditions as well?"

Arthur slammed both hands on the table. "Are you bloody mad!? Our contact states that we were simply to judge the final performance, not to help sift through all the participants!"

"I'm aware what the initial contract entails, I'm asking if you would kindly indulge us with your service once more."

Francis gave a shrug. "I will be at the Studio regardless, so I see no reason not to. It could be a chance to get a taste of what the real concert will be like."

"Like I don't have anything better to do than listen to every tone-deaf busker in the region?!"

"Oh, come now sourcil it won't be that bad. We can even stop for a drink after. How does that sound?" He rested his hand on his hip and peering across the table, seeking out the other.

Arthur gave a short groan of annoyance, "Very well. I'll take part in weaning through the auditions."

Francis flung his arms in exclamation, " _Ç'est merveilleux_! I will see you at the radio station for auditions. _Au revoir_!"

As the talk show host made his was out the door Arthur began to gather the papers and once more compile them into his briefcase.

"I'll be going too. I have to get these documents submitted and clear my schedule for the day of auditions. Pleasure doing business."

An light that he was out the door as well, leaving the Austrian alone once more. He readjusted his glasses and let out a sigh.

"I suppose I should go and see to my other guest? It really has gotten too rowdy around here." And with that he too exited down the hall to another room were reporters and cameramen patiently awaited when he opened the door.

"Mr. Edelstein we'd like to ask you a few questions."

 **End of chapter three.**

 **Song was, Thank You for the Music by ABBA**

 **Thanks for reading~**


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